For You Only
by pheonixfeather94
Summary: Nessie Cullen and Jacob Black-life ripped them apart only weeks after the confrontation with the Volturi. Ten years later, destiny will find a way to bring them back together. J/N BD Cannon. Rated for language and some mature content.
1. Chapter 1

_Nessie Cullen and Jacob Black—life ripped them apart only weeks after the confrontation with the Volturi. Ten years later, destiny finds a way to bring them back together. J/N BD Cannon. Rated for language, and some mature content._

* * *

**For You Only**

"_Keep on running, _

_farther, faster._

_And keep on searching,_

_for this haunting has an answer._

_And I know you will find me in orbit,_

_for I am breathing only for this,_

_for you only."_

* * *

The Sonics were down 38-40 with three minutes left in the game when I felt it.

It wasn't all-consuming like it'd been the first time. It wasn't a wave of _need_ and _now_ that came crashing down on me, compelling me to stumble blindly towards her. It was a little nudge in the pit of my stomach, so fleeting that I almost mistook it for gas, or indigestion—we had eaten a _lot_ of pizza.

But then I felt it again and again. It came quicker and quicker until it was constant, and that's when I knew.

I stood up from the couch, abruptly, knocking Paul's beer over with my foot.

"Shit, Jake!" he yelped, lunging forward to catch the can. "What the fuck?"

"Sorry," I muttered out of habit. I turned my head from side to side, straining for _something_—to hear, to smell, _anything_. That steel tether in my chest—the one that had lain dormant for so long—shook off its dust and began _clink, clink, clinking_ its way back together. Automatically, my feet took two steps to the right, towards the door, and my heart stopped for a second when I picked up the very faintest sound of an approaching engine.

"Jake?"

Quil half stood, looking up at me with a creased brow. "Everything all right?"

"I—" My ears perked again when the engine slowed to an idle, just far enough away for it to conceivably be parked at the end of Billy's drive way. _It could be anyone_, my head whispered. _It could just be someone passing by. You don't know that it's _her.

But I _did_ know. I _felt _it.

"I have to go."

In two short motions, I was over the back of the couch and out the front door.

It was dark outside—there was no moon out—but I could see well enough, and I knew Billy's front yard like the back of my hand. The grass was brittle under my bare feet, but I hardly even noticed. My mind was paradoxically numb and buzzing, focused entirely on one thing; my entire body was being pulled forward, as if by some huge magnet, and I couldn't fight it even if I wanted to.

I smelled her before I saw her, and God, it hit me like a tidal wave. I pulled in lungful after lungful of sweet, honeyed air, gulping it down like I was a dying man in the desert and she was my last drops of water.

But then, I turned the corner and I saw her, and I-

I don't know what I was expecting. I suppose part of me thought she would still be the same little girl I hugged goodbye at the airport ten years ago, wearing the same polka-dotted dress, the same obnoxious bow tied in her hair.

I stood frozen, staring as she made her way down the driveway. She was anything but a little girl—all tall and willowy, subtle curves rolling beneath her jeans and sweatshirt—and for one terrifying moment, I felt like she was a stranger.

Then she took another step forward, and I began to pick out all the little things that were still the same about her: her hair, for one, still spiraled down her back in thick, coppery curls; her skin was still that smooth alabaster, her fingers still long and elegantly tapered as they peeked out from her sleeves. Her face had slimmed out and lost its baby roundness, but I could see the slightest hint of a shadow in her left cheek where I knew there was a dimple.

She was breathtaking.

She came to a stop about twenty feet away from me, and it was then that I finally let myself meet her gaze. Our eyes locked, and I felt myself fall into those two glorious pools of chocolate brown. And just as I thought I would hit rock bottom, those same steel cables erupted out of my chest, catching me, holding me there, anchoring me to her. I wasn't falling anymore, I wasn't floating anymore, I was captivated, enraptured, pulled into the strongest orbital force ever experienced.

I made myself pull in a shaky breath, and it was only then I realized that my hands were trembling.

"Jacob."

Five letters, two syllables, barely more than a breath, but still more than I'd heard of that beautiful voice in almost a decade. I let my eyes fall closed, and I basked in the sound for a moment.

"Nessie." My voice was thick around the lump in my throat, and when I opened my eyes, my vision was clouded over. Some part of my brain scoffed that I should've been embarrassed—I was a grown man, crying in front of a girl—but I couldn't bring myself to care. I stumbled towards her, reaching out.

"Nessie," I repeated, a prayer and a plea at the same time. I came to a halt right in front of her, my fingers outstretched just a millimeter away from her. I didn't want to touch her, didn't want to break the spell or the dream or whatever it was that had her there, right within my reach.

She stared up at me, her eyes dark and completely unreadable. Hesitantly, her fingers came up to lace between mine, and the energy that shot through my body was nothing compared to the feeling of her voice in my head.

_It's me_, she whispered. _I'm here._

With a strangled cry, my joints seemed to unlock, and I yanked her towards me, crushing her body against mine.

"Nessie." Her name was my breath and then my hands where in her hair, sliding down her neck, across her shoulders, down her arms and sides and around her back. Her fingernails _hurt_ where they dug into the bare skin of my shoulders, but I didn't care because she was there and I was holding her and I was never going to let her go again.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed against the skin of my chest, and I didn't know if it were her tears or mine that wet my face as I pressed my cheek down against hers. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's okay, baby," I murmured, smoothing my hand down over her hair. "It's okay. Whatever happened, Ness, I swear it's gonna be fine. You're here now, you're with me. I've got you."

I tilted my head back against the inky black sky, resting my chin on the top of her head, sure now that the tears were my own.

"It's gonna be okay, honey. I've got you."

* * *

I woke with a start, and blinked up into the darkness, momentarily confused. My fingers fanned out beside me, feeling the rough twill of the couch, and I remembered: Nessie was here.

I lifted my head up off the armrest and stared down the hall to my bedroom door. It was cracked just the slightest bit, and in the sliver of light that shone through, I could see her huddled mass tucked under a pile of blankets.

Suddenly, the urge to be close to her was unbearably strong.

I pushed myself up off the sagging cushions, and winced at the crick in my neck. Rubbing at it lightly, I stumbled my way across the room and down the hall. I nudged the door open a little farther with my foot, and leaned against the frame, watching her.

She was even more beautiful when she was sleeping—if that was even possible. Her hair fanned out around her, swirling in tiny bronze rivulets across the white of my pillow. Where her face had been drawn earlier, it was now completely smoothed out, lashes resting gently on her pale cheeks, mouth curled up just the tiniest bit at the corners.

I eased my way into the room, dropping down on my knees beside the bed. Under any other circumstances, I would've felt wrong—like some sort of perverted stalker—but with her, everything I did just felt _right_.

My chest ached as I looked down at her. How much of her life had I missed? Her first bike ride, her first day of school, her first crush? Where had she traveled, what had she seen, who had she met? How much had she learned—how whip-smart was that incredible mind of hers?

I had promised her I would always be there for her, iterated the words more times than I could count, and I had done nothing but let her down. She had been ripped away from me, and I hadn't been able to find her, to do the one thing that my bond to her mandated I do: protect her.

One of her hands was fisted in the blankets, and I took it gently, uncurling her fingers and wrapping them with my own.

"I'm so sorry, Nessie," I whispered, bringing her hand up to press against my lips. "I'm so sorry I let you go. I swear to you—" My voice cracked, and I swallowed. "I swear to you it will never happen again."

* * *

The creaking of Billy's door woke me the second time. My eyes fluttered open, and I immediately clamped them shut again, bringing a hand up to block the piercing sunlight with a groan. I shifted, pushing myself up, and heard the joints in my back pop in protest. I'd fallen asleep sitting on the floor with my back braced against the bed. At some point, my head had rolled back to rest against the mattress; if I had thought I'd had a crick last night, it was nothing compared to the knot now.

Gingerly, I stretched the rest of my body, my tight muscles reminding me that I wasn't eighteen anymore. As quietly and gracefully as I could, I rose to my feet and cast a glance over my shoulder.

Nessie was still sound asleep, eyes flicking rapidly back and forth under their translucent lids. I pulled the blankets a little higher up over her shoulders, tucking them in around her body, and let my hand trail down across her hair. She shifted a little, sighing, but didn't wake.

I slipped silently through the door and padded down the hall to the kitchen. Billy was at the stove, his back to me as he rummaged through the lower cabinets.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," he greeted without looking back.

"Morning," I returned. I leaned against the counter and ran a hand through my hair, mulling over how I was going to break the news to him that my imprint—the very girl that had disappeared without a trace ten years ago—was currently sleeping in my bed.

"We, uh, have a house guest," I began, easing into it. I wanted to be straightforward with him, but damn, the guy was getting old. I didn't particularly want to have to resuscitate him—especially not before I'd had a chance to eat breakfast.

Billy pulled a kettle from the cabinet, and wheeled over to the sink. "That so?" he asked mildly, as if I'd just informed him that the weather forecast called for rain. "What's her name, so I can at least be polite when she comes in?"

It took me a second to realize he thought I'd brought a girl home for—for _that_. The thought turned my stomach. I was no angel, and I'd certainly met my fair share of women—though, admittedly, I'd met most of them piss-drunk—but the thought of doing _that_ with any other girl, especially with Nessie right down the hall, was revolting.

"Nessie," I said flatly.

"Nessie," he repeated, wheeling back over to the stove. "Not a very common name."

"That's because there's only one, Dad."

It seem to hit him then, and he paused, his hand buried down in a box of tea bags. Slowly, he began rifling through the contents. "So she just showed up here last night, after all this time, and you're fine with that?"

I let out a long breath through my nose. "I've never been mad at _her_."

He finally looked up at me, his eyes calculating. "Did you sleep with her?"

I thought my eyes might pop out of my head. "_What_?"

"It's a valid question, Jake. I'm assuming she's in your room, unless she somehow gained the power of invisibility." He glanced around the room exaggeratedly, and I felt my teeth clench together

"Of course I didn't sleep with her," I ground out.

"Well that's one crisis averted, then." He finally selected a tea bag, and dropped it down onto the counter, reaching for a mug. "I hope you at least got some answers, if you didn't get anything else."

"That's on the agenda," I snapped back, finally reaching my breaking point. "I thought the interrogation could wait until she'd gotten a couple hours of sleep." I stopped there, not trusting myself to continue without saying something I knew I'd regret. I clenched my hands into fists, and tried to calm the trembling in my spine.

The kettle let out a squeal, and he leaned forward to pull it off the burner, pouring some of the steaming water into a chipped blue mug. He dipped the tea bag down into it a few times before finally letting it fall. He took a long sip, and then sighed.

"All right." He turned his chair to face me. "She can stay."

I felt a sneer twist my face. "I wasn't asking your _permission_."

He looked at me for a long moment, and I tried to pretend I couldn't see the hurt in his eyes. He balanced his mug on his knee and wheeled slowly by, headed for the back door.

"I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into, son."

Before I could respond, he was out on the patio, the screen falling shut behind him with a bang.

I leant my forearms against the counter, and let my breath flow out in a _whoosh_. It hadn't always been this way with me and Billy; I could remember back to a time when we used to go camping and fishing, when he'd throw footballs around in the backyard with me. He was the one who'd taught me about cars and fixing broken engines.

But then things had changed.

"Jacob?"

My head shot up so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. Nessie was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, eyes uncertain, bottom lip held securely between her teeth. All the tension in my body melted away when I saw her, and I managed a smile.

"Hey," I greeted softly, taking a few steps toward her. I reached out and put my hands on both of her shoulders, rubbing up and down her bare arms. She was in a plain white tank top and a pair of my old shorts, and goose bumps rippled across her skin in the cool February air. "How are you?"

Her eyes flashed briefly over my shoulder, to the back door, and I felt myself frown. "Don't worry about him," I told her, my voice sharper than I'd intended. Her gaze moved back to me, and she forced a smile.

"It's okay," she said. "I know all of this—" She motioned to herself—"was kind of…unexpected."

I pulled her the rest of the way to me and squeezed her tightly. "But it was the best kind of unexpected ever." I let her go and bumped her with my elbow. Her mouth quirked up a little, and I felt myself grin.

"How 'bout some breakfast, yeah?" I asked, rubbing my hands together as I turned back to the fridge. "I make one hell of an omelet." I stopped, midway across the room, and looked back at her, a thought occurring to me. "Or—or we could go for a…run?"

But Nessie shook her head, taking a few steps forward to slip up onto a barstool. "An omelet sounds good," she assured me. Her eyes flicked to the window, where the edge of the forest was visible. "I don't think," she said quietly, "I mean—I don't really want—" She stopped, pulling in a breath, and then turned back to me. "I just want regular food."

Her voice was firm with a conviction I didn't quite understand, but I nodded anyway. "Sure, sure," I agreed. "Whatever you want, Ness."

I set to making breakfast without hardly giving a thought to what I was doing. There was some reason she was here. Something had happened to make her come back, and it had to have been something big. She didn't have hardly anything with her—just a small bag with a change of clothes, a passport and a couple of credit cards and IDs. She had definitely left suddenly, and it was quite clear she didn't want anyone knowing where she went.

Heat rolled through my body—if something that bad had happened, if they had hurt her in some way—

The green pepper I was chopping took one particularly vicious hit, and a crack split down the length of the cutting board. With an irritated huff, I slid the vegetables onto the counter with my knife, and tossed the useless board into the trash can behind me. _Just add it to the list of things you owe Billy_, I thought bitterly.

"The first time I tried to cook, I pulled the oven door off."

Her voice startled me, bringing me back to the present, and I glanced over. She had a soft little smile on her face as she remembered whatever incident she was referring to, but it was laced with sadness.

I snorted. "I've got you beat. I phased in the living room once. Crushed every single piece of furniture we had in there."

Her eyes grew wide. "What happened?"

I opened my mouth to answer her, and then stopped. That day would forever be etched in my mind, in horrifyingly clear detail; that call that I had gotten, telling me I wasn't needed anymore, had haunted my sleep for the last ten years. The reaction had been uncontrollable, pure instinct. It'd been a good thing Seth had been there—I'd nearly given Billy a heart attack.

"I, uh—I got a bad phone call," I hedged. She'd been less than six months old when they'd left, physically hardly bigger than three. I didn't know how much she remembered, or how much she knew about the situation.

"I'm sorry." Her voice shook, and when I glanced up at her, it was to see that her eyes were misted over. My mind flashed back to the previous night, standing out on the driveway. _I'm so sorry_, she had said. _I'm so, so sorry_.

She thought it was her fault. She thought _she_ had been the cause of this entire fiasco.

"Hey, now." I set down the knife and reached over to her, wiping away a stray tear with my thumb. "You didn't do anything wrong, Ness. It didn't have anything to do with you." I stopped just short of saying whose fault it all _really _was. No matter what beef I had with her father, it was my problem, not hers.

She sniffed and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, blinking furiously, but the tears still rolled steadily down her cheeks. Angrily, she reached up and brushed at them, letting out a bitter laugh.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'm such a mess."

I picked up her hand and tugged. "C'mere."

Obediently, she slid down off her stool and sidestepped the counter to wrap her arms around my waist. She laid her cheek against my chest, and I held her.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," I told the top of her head firmly. I slid my hands up her arms to her shoulders, and pulled her back just enough to look at her. "And even if you are a mess, you're the most beautiful one I've ever seen. Cross my heart."

I mimed the accompanying action, and she rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips quirked up into something close to a smile.

"That's better," I said, cupping her face in my hand, running my finger over that lone dimple. "Now, are you gonna tell me what made you think you had any part in all this nonsense?"

Her eyes dropped back down, and she shook her head. "I should've known," she said miserably. "I should've known none of it was true. I mean, I was your girl, right? Your Nessie."

I felt my stomach begin to slowly sink. "Ness, what are you talking about?"

She took a deep breath and straightened up. "They told me you couldn't come with us. That you had to stay in La Push, even if you didn't want to, because of the pack. Ad they told me not to try to contact you, because it would just make it harder for you. They told me it would hurt you." Her bottom lip began to quiver, and her eyes welled up again. "I couldn't hurt you, Jake. I don't know how many times I picked up the phone, or sat down to write a letter, but I just couldn't do it."

I felt like I'd been socked in the gut. I staggered backwards, placing a hand against the wall to steady myself. The heat was rolling up and down my spine and my fingers were already starting to tremble.

"That son of a bitch," I choked out. "That goddamn motherfucking _lair_."

I could hear his voice in my head, as clear as if it'd happened yesterday: _She's fine, Jacob. She's doing wonderfully. In fact…I'd go so far as to say she's doing better here than she did in Forks. I think…she's made her choice. You will support her, won't you?_

My body gave a violent lurch, and I stumbled towards the door, my mind in a panic. I had to get away, I had to get out of the house. If I hurt her…

My hand went straight through the screen door, and when I wretched my arm back, I pulled it completely off the hinges.

"_Fuck_," I hissed, tripping over the threshold and down into the back yard.

"Jake?" Billy's voice was confused as he wheeled himself out of the shop, but I ignored it until another voice joined him.

"Jacob!"

My legs were like jelly and my heart was pounding so hard in my chest that it hurt; my skull felt like it was about to explode. I doubled over, gripping my knees and gasping for breath.

"Stay where you are," I ordered, holding a hand out towards the patio. "I meant it, Nessie."

I heard her snort, and then my panic doubled as she descended the back steps. I tried to take a step away, but my knees were locked into place, caught between my physical urge to phase and my mental insistence that I _not_.

I screwed my eyes shut as she drew closer; a picture of Emily flashed through my mind, those three long gashes pulling down the side of her face, and I very nearly whimpered.

"Jacob," she repeated, this time much softer, and I felt the air shift as she sunk to her knees in front of me. Her hands rested on each of my cheeks and her forehead fell against mine, and all of a sudden, the only thing I could feel was _calm_.

"You're not going to hurt me, Jacob," she whispered, her breath warm against my face. "I know you're not. You could never hurt me."

Images flashed through my head, memories that weren't mine, but featured me prominently: funny little snippets of my eyes, or my smile, my hands as they braided through her hair, or guided her little fingers around a crayon. I felt the warmth of my own chest against her face, and the way she felt cradled in my arms.

"You always take care of me, Jacob. See?"

I opened my eyes and she was right there, millimeters away from me, and it sure as hell didn't help my pulse any. She ran her finger tips under my left eye and caught a tear that I didn't even know had fallen.

"How can you say that?" I asked, and my voice cracked on the last word. "How can you say I always take care of you when I haven't even _been_ there?"

"Shhh," she soothed, slipping her hands back through my hair. Her fingernails scraped against my scalp, and I shivered in a way that had nothing to do with my body wanting to phase. "That doesn't matter now. We didn't have a choice then, neither one of us. But we do now."

Her eyes locked on to mine, and I swear to whatever deities that are out there that my heart had never felt so damn full in my entire life. And when she opened her mouth in the next second, and spoke those four words that I would treasure for the rest of my life, I would've given anything for Edward Cullen to be there.

"I choose you, Jacob."


	2. Chapter 2

I broke through the trees on the edge of Billy's lawn at a jog. The sky was a dusky orange, and I felt a pang of guilt; I didn't realize I'd been gone so long.

My feet carried my automatically to where I knew she could be, and as I approached, I slowed to a walk, tilting my head to the side with a frown. Was that…a guitar?

I stepped through the shed door and sure enough, Nessie was seated on an old spare bench seat in the corner, her feet propped up on a stack of tires, a dusty guitar draped across her knees. When she heard me, she glanced up with a wide grin, her fingers never faltering as they flew across the strings.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," I returned, hoisting myself up onto one of the workbenches. I nodded at the instrument in her hands. "I didn't even know we had one of those."

She shrugged. "Guess you do. I found it in the back." Abruptly, the music stopped, and she moved it off her lap, stretching her legs out in front of her.

"Don't stop," I said. "It's good."

Her cheeks flushed pink. "Only if you come sit next to me."

I chuckled, sliding down to go join her. "You drive one hell of a bargain, Ness. A pretty girl _and_ great music? I'll take it."

I settled back against the seat and kicked my feet up next to hers. Her fingers started picking at the notes, something slow and soothing, and I felt myself finally start to relax after the events of the day.

"How was your run?" she asked after a few minutes, glancing up to look at me.

I grimaced, remembering the roar of voices that had kicked up instantly in the pack mind the second I'd phased. It had taken a while to get everyone calmed down enough to explain the situation, but after that, it'd gone fairly smoothly. Sam had agreed to allow Nessie to stay in La Push for the time being, but we had all agreed the same courtesy wouldn't be extended to her family. If they came back for her—and it was really more of a 'when' than an 'if'—and she wanted to see them, they could meet her on the other side of the treaty line. Emily had even offered around the lunch table to take Nessie in to Seattle to go shopping—something I was sure she would appreciate, seeing as she only had two sets of clothes.

"It was…eventful," I finally decided. "But overall, good. They voted to let you stay, but I gotta say, it was a pretty slim margin." I grinned, and she rolled her eyes.

"If by 'pretty slim margin' you mean unanimous."

I chuckled and reached up to tug on a piece of her hair. "What can I say? You've put a spell on them."

"Must be a wolf thing," she said wryly.

"Must be," I chortled in agreement.

She looked out the open door across the yard, and her fingers shifted, changing key mid-song. This melody was haunting, melancholy; the hairs on my arms stood up as goose bumps rippled out across my skin.

"Who taught you to play like that?" I asked, even though I was sure I already knew the answer. It was no secret that her father was some sort of virtuoso.

"Picked it up somewhere along the road, I guess," she replied vaguely, and I knew my assumptions were correct.

"Anything else you've picked up that I should know about?" I asked, only partly joking. I wanted to know everything that I had missed—where she'd gone, what she'd done, the things she'd seen.

She wrinkled her nose. "It sounds like you're talking about some sort of disease. But I guess a high school diploma and a couple of bachelor's degrees aren't far from diseases. They certainly required follow-up rehabilitation."

I cocked an eyebrow. "A _couple_ bachelor's degrees? How many is that?"

She only hesitated a second before answering, "Three." Her eyes cut to the side to survey my reaction. "When you're caged up inside a house for ten years, you end up with a lot of free time."

I let out a low whistle. "I'd say so." _Three _bachelor's degrees? Holy hell. I didn't even have my associate's. And hers were probably in something ridiculous—astrophysics, or biomechanics. "Wait—caged up?"

She plucked a few more strings, and I could see the wheels turning in her head as she thought how best to phrase her answer. "The rest of the world isn't quite so…_forgiving_ on appearances as the Northwestern United States. It was hard on my family. They all had to find night jobs, or make up some story about how they worked from home. We hopped around a lot—Vancouver, Minneapolis, Albany. We spent a year with Kate and Tanya up in Denali, and time down in Rio. When I went to Oxford—"

"Oxford?"

She winced slightly, but continued. "Yeah. They had a good scholarship package."

I snorted. "More like Grandpa Carlisle had a deep pockets and a few good connections."

"He didn't even know I applied," she shot back, giving me a look. I blinked, momentarily taken aback, and she sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap. It's just a touchy subject. I didn't want them paying for any of my schooling. I didn't want them having that kind of power over me." She shrugged. "I worked my ass off in my high school courses and on my entrance exams. Every diploma I got, I earned all by myself."

I stared at her, momentarily speechless. I don't think I could've been more proud of her than if she'd told me that she had single-handedly discovered the cure to cancer, but I could tell she didn't want to make a big deal out of it.

"So when you went to Oxford…?" I trailed off, prompting her to continue, and she flashed me a small smile, clearly relieved that I was letting her move on.

"We stayed in several places around Europe. London, Edinburgh, Dublin, Amsterdam, six months in St. Petersburg."

"So how many languages is that?" I teased.

She laughed, flicking her pick over at me. "Too many for you to count."

"And what's that?"

"Six."

I put a hand over my heart in mock indignation. "Ouch! I have ten fingers, Nessie, I can at least count that high."

"Well, I guess if you want to count Greek and Latin, that makes eight, but you don't really speak those, you just read them."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, well, then obviously that doesn't count. If you can only _read _them…" I fished her pick out of my lap and handed it back to her. "I don't remember telling you that you could stop playing."

"I thought _I_ was supposed to be the bossy one here?" she huffed, but her fingers moved obligingly back to the strings, and she picked up right where she'd left off.

I laid my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes, just enjoying the sounds she made, even when she stopped to tune it briefly.

"I was kind of hoping you'd teach me Quileute," she said after a moment. "Then I could make it nine."

I opened my eyes and looked over at her. She was hunched over the guitar, studiously avoiding my gaze, as though she was nervous to hear my response. As if I could tell her no, I mentally scoffed.

"Sure, sure," I answered. "I don't know very much, but I'll teach you everything I do know. Quil knows the most out of all of us. I bet he'd help, too."

"Quil," she repeated thoughtfully. "He's the big one—the one with the little girl. Claire?"

"Mhm," I hummed. My hand trailed its way back to her hair along the back of the seat. I twisted the curls around my fingers. The silky strands slid across my skin easily.

_Easy_, I thought. _That's what everything feels like with her. _There was no awkwardness, no trepidation, even after ten years of being apart. We picked right back up, as if we'd never missed a day. If it were any other relationship, it would've been confusing; there would've been labels, and traditions, and a timeline to follow. But with her, I felt no pressure to hash all those things out. I was hers, and to some extent, she was mine, and I was happy with whatever she wanted to give me—whatever she decided she wanted us to be. Idly, I wondered if all imprints were like that. I couldn't imagine that anyone else shared a connection like the one I had with Nessie.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, glancing back over her shoulder at me.

I grinned—easy question. "You."

She rolled her eyes. "That's what you've always said."

"That's 'cause it's always true."

She plucked at one, two, three more strings. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

She set the guitar to the side and turned on the seat to face me, crossing her legs Indian-style. Her eyes were guarded, and I had a feeling her question was going to be loaded.

"This morning," she started, "when you got so upset, right before you went outside, you said something about a liar." She watched me carefully, and I had to work to keep my face neutral. "Who were you talking about?"

I sighed, trying to figure out the best way to explain it; I didn't have anywhere close to her level of eloquence. "When you guys left for Isle Esme, it was just supposed to be a vacation. Two weeks, a month—tops."

She nodded. "I remember."

"Well, the day you were supposed to be coming home, I got a phone call."

"From my dad," she guessed. "That was the day you crushed all the furniture."

I was glad my skin tone covered up what would've been a blush. "Yeah. He told me that you all had decided that it was time to move on, to leave Forks." I shook my head. "I didn't understand at first. I told him to give me a week, and I'd meet you all wherever you'd decided on. He got really quiet, and I just got this sinking feeling in my gut. That's when I knew. And that's when—when the furniture thing happened."

She slid her hands over on top of mine, and I realized I was starting to shake again. I grabbed on to her, glad for the anchor, and continued.

"It took Seth a while to get me calmed down enough to phase back, and when I got back to the house, your dad was still waiting on the phone. He told me that he and your mom and decided that moving would be the best thing for you. He said you needed to have _choices_." I spat out the word like it was a curse. "He wanted to take you away from me so that you could see what 'real life' was like. He didn't think that was something I could give you, I guess."

I stopped, taking a moment to pull in a deep breath. Edward's words—the things that he had insinuated—even after all this time, still stung. I didn't give two shits that he didn't think I was good enough for his daughter—hell, _I_ didn't think I was good enough for his daughter—but that he had implied that I wouldn't be able to take care of her, or give her the things that she needed, was what hurt. That was the very essence of imprinting: to provide for your imprint, to give them what they needed and wanted. To put their needs above your own.

"He played dirty, your old dad," I said, chuckling humorlessly. "I will give him that much. He used the one thing I cared about the most against me. He said you _needed_ the chance to live life on your own. That I _owed_ you that much. How could I argue with that?"

Her thumbs pressed circles into my wrists, and she shook her head, not lifting her eyes from where they were trained on my knees. "That must've been terrible."

"I was okay for that first month," I contradicted. "He said he was going to give it a month and see how it went, and that he'd call me and let me know how it was going. He promised me that if you were unhappy, he would tell me, and I could be there the very next day. I lived on pins and needles waiting for that damn phone call."

"Let me guess." She finally looked up at me, and I was surprised to see that her jaw was clenched and her eyes bright. "He told you I was doing just fine. Wonderful, actually, never better. That he'd never seen me so happy. I was _flourishing_." She snorted. "That's the story everybody got. Even me. My father tried to tell _me_ how I was doing."

"If I would've known," I said, "If I would've had any idea, I would've been there in a second, Nessie. You gotta believe me."

Her face softened, and she reached out to touch my cheek. "Don't you think I know that?" she chided. "Why do you think I'm here?"

She sighed and dropped her hand, and the second it was gone, I missed it. "As soon as I figured out it was all a lie, I was gone. I couldn't stand being around them anymore, knowing what they'd done—to me and to you. Thinking about it makes me feel sick to my stomach. To think that my own parents would do something like that." She shook her head again, words failing her. "It made me feel like—like everything I thought I was, everything they had instilled in me, was just a big lie. I felt like I didn't even know myself anymore."

She swallowed, fighting back yet another round of tears, and I hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her carefully over into my lap.

"There's no more crying allowed," I said, settling my chin down on her shoulder. "There's been too much crying today already. I hate it when you cry."

She managed a watery smile. "I know you do." Her hands came to rest on top of mine where they were crossed on her stomach.

"I know who you are," I told her softly, blowing a piece of hair out of her eyes. She squinted, but smiled, and I couldn't help but smile back. "You're Nessie Cullen. You're the only decent half-vampire I know. You're the prettiest, smartest, funniest, strongest girl I've ever met."

"You have to say that," she said. "It's part of your job."

I leaned my forehead against the side of her head. "Even if it wasn't, I still would."

She leaned into me, and I let my eyes fall closed. Her fingers toyed idly with mine.

"Jacob?"

"Hm?"

"You know they're going to come looking for me. And this is the first place they're going to check."

She sat forward, twisting around to look at me, and I opened my eyes. "I know."

"I don't want to go back with them."

My heart just about damn near broke. I reached out to run a hand over her hair, and pulled her back against me, tucking her head under my chin. "You don't have to go anywhere you don't wanna go, honey. I promise."

Her fingers pressed against my collar bone, and I knew the meaning of the gesture without needing to hear her voice in my head: _thank you_.

* * *

"I'm not sleeping in here."

I let out a long breath through my nose. "Nessie, c'mon. It's late. I'm tired, and I'm ready to go to bed. I'm _old_—I don't have the energy for this anymore."

She uncrossed her arms, and waved one hand towards the bed in the corner. "Then go ahead. I'm not stopping you."

"Nessie—"

"No, this is absolutely ridiculous! I am not sleeping in this huge bed while you try to squish on the couch. It doesn't make sense, Jacob. I'm smaller, I'll fit better on the couch, so that's where I'll sleep."

I brought a hand up and ran it over my face.

"You even said yourself that you back hurt," she continued. "If you sleep out there again tonight, it's just going to be worse in the morning."

"I don't care about my damn back, Nessie," I ground out.

"Well I do!"

We stared at each other across the small space of my bedroom, neither one of us willing to back down. All of a sudden, her eyes lit up, and she took a step towards me. I eyed her warily.

"Please, Jacob?" she asked, widening her gaze innocently. "It would make me so happy if you slept in here."

I felt my resolve crumbling. "That's not fair," I grumbled. "You're cheating."

She beamed. "I'll just grab a pillow from the closet, then!"

"Wait, wait, wait." I caught her around the waist as she made to slip past me. "I'm not gonna be able to sleep in here anyway, with you out there on that couch. It's not comfortable. You'll be awake all night, and I'll feel like an ass. So if I'm not sleeping anyway, I'd rather not sleep out there so that you _can_ sleep in here."

She pursed her lips, and was quiet just long enough for me to start to feel smug.

"Then sleep with me."

"_What_?"

She rolled her eyes and wriggled out of my grasp. "Don't act like you're twelve, Jacob. It's a king sized bed. We'll both fit, easy."

I stared at the bed dubiously. "Nessie, I really don't think that's a good idea."

"_Please_ don't tell me you're worried about protecting my virtue." She snorted. "Who's going to know? Billy?" She hopped up on the bed and patted the mattress. "Come on."

I frowned. "Why shouldn't I be worried about protecting your virtue? Is that your way of telling me something?"

"Would it matter if it was?" she countered, one eyebrow raised.

I gaped at her. "Uh—"

She cut me off with a laugh. "I'm just kidding, Jacob. Don't worry, I haven't yet been 'deflowered' as my father so delicately phrases it."

I wrinkled my nose, even though inside I felt a flood of relief. I supposed that if it had been her choice to…participate in certain activities, that would've been one thing. But the thought of someone else touching her made my stomach roll. "That's such a weird way of saying it."

"It's disgusting," she corrected. "Nothing about that part of the female body even remotely resembles a flower. I should know. Now come on, you're taking too long," she complained. "I'm tired."

I crossed the room slowly and came to a stop at the edge of the bed, still uncertain. I could just imagine her father showing up in the middle of the night to find us in the same bed. I'd be castrated before I even woke up.

The idea made me shudder.

Nessie rose up on her knees and walked across the bed towards me. She came to a stop with just an inch of space between us. "What's the matter, Jake?" she breathed, eyeing me from underneath her lashes. "Don't trust yourself?"

I couldn't help it; my eyes flashed up and down her body, once, and she grinned. "Maybe not if you're gonna be like that," I admitted. She was in one of my old t-shirts and a pair of very, _very_ short shorts.

She laughed, leaning forward to rest her chin on my shoulder and wrap her arms around my waist. Automatically, my own arms came up to circle her.

"I'm just messing with you," she said. "But it's good to know you're honest."

I laughed weakly. "Can't be anything but, with you."

She nuzzled her head into the crook of my neck, and I was acutely aware of the fact that her lips brushed against my skin when she spoke. "I just want to be close to you, Jake. Is that too much to ask?"

I groaned in defeat, and pushed her back playfully. When she bounced against the pillows, her grin was wicked. "All right, all right. You win. Get in."

I turned off the lamp and pushed back the covers, climbing in beside her. "This is _not_ a permanent set up," I warned. "Don't get used to it."

She snuggled up next to me. "Sure, sure," she said lightly.

I slid my arm underneath her head and pulled her closer. "I mean it."

"Hush," she admonished. "I'm trying to sleep."

I grinned up at the ceiling and turned my head so that I could press my face into her hair. This was dangerous territory; too many nights like this, and I wouldn't be able to sleep anywhere else.

I had the feeling, though, if it came down to it, I wouldn't really care.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much for stopping by! I hope you guys enjoyed these first two chapters. I know they were a bit of an emotional roller coaster, but here in the next couple of chapters, it'll even out some. Leave me and review and let me know what you think! It's the only way we fanfiction writers get paid!


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